A/N: Sadly I do not own The Walking Dead or the characters used except for Oakley Miller.
Hey guys, it's Holly. Basically I've been obsessed with the walking dead and wanted to write a fic and here's the result of it. I'm writing this on my own and not with Katie (queue 'All by myself' to be played) so if it's crappy I'm sorry . I might make a book trailer and post the link, but yeah. Also can we appreciate the cover and how long it took to make?
Anyway enjoy the story and like, comment and vote!
I pull the worn out, tatty rucksack onto my back and start moving. I can't stay here again; I'd been here for too long. Turning around briefly I glance behind me making sure I left no evidence of where I'd been sleeping. You may be thinking: 'yet another teenager who's ran away from home' or 'who's too spoiled to realise what they have', but I'm on the run for a reason: The world has ended.
Dramatic I know, but it tends to lose it's excitement when you've been on your own for months, not able to keep track of time and you have zombies trying to knaw your arm off everywhere you go. I guess that's what happens in this wasteland of a world. Maybe it's karma, we had no respect for the world so we get no safety or a proper life.
Anyway I've been travelling through Atlanta in the sweltering heat with no one, just myself for safety and entertainment, even though I'm hilarious (when you start to invent puns about trees, I think that's a clear sign that a career in comedy should no be pursued), trying to get from point A to point B. I carry on walking through the woods, leaves cracking and twigs snapping as my boots navigate my path. I'm going into the unknown.
I walk quickly to ensure I get to a safer area so that I can sleep for the night, or at least a couple of hours. It does that to you, the apocalypse, it prevents you from being able to breathe without the fear of death looming over your shoulders. Just surviving is a task now.
I carry on trudging along the remnants of a path that was almost intelligible. I wonder if the semi-permanent pink dye has faded from my hair now that I've been exposed to the elements for months. Oh God. I guarantee my brown eyes look even more like a muddy puddle now that I've had hardly any sleep. At least I might have a tan from being out in the sun all day, everyday. I lift my arm up in front of my eyes and push back the sleeves on my red flannel shirt that was smeared with dirt. My arms were the same pale shade as they'd been all my life. Why was I even bothering with wondering how I looked? There was no need for vanity anymore considering that no one was there to appreciate it. Besides, I know what I looked like: a mess.
After my analysis I glance around looking out for the undead. They'd been getting more active as the climate increased in temperature. I gripped the handle of the knife that was tucked into my belt that kept my weapons ,and trousers, secure. In the last week I've had at least eight encounters with them which is double the amount I've had in the previous months. Their flesh is slowly melting and decaying away from the bone, enabling you to see things that frankly I'd much rather not. I mean who wants to be walking through the forest and bam flesh falls at your feet and they try to eat you. No thank you, kindly to you good sir. As I'm thinking this I turn a corner and find what appears to be an abandoned cabin nestled in the far edge of the forest, hidden by an army of trees and boulders. Sprinting, I head straight towards the cabin, or as I like to think of it heaven.
Slowly, I open the door and jump about a foot in the air as it creaks. My gaze flits around the one room and I gasp, caught unaware.